Inconsolable
by SgtMac
Summary: Follow-up to Idealistic and Indebted - Robin Hood owes the Evil Queen a debt for sparing his life (twice), and just before she heads to a final battle with Snow White, she collects upon it. Pre-OQ, EF, Pre-Curse.


**A/N:** And thus endeth the three-chapter arc. It's pre-OQ but sets the stage. Thanks for the interest. Party on.

**Re:** the title - it's a slightly different spin on the word. In this case it's more meant to symbolize Robin not being able to offer the peace that Regina desperately needs to stop her from her desperate path.

**Timeline**: Follows Idealistic and Indebted; this story takes place in the middle of Cricket Game.

* * *

She hears the sound of his heavy boots on the packed dirt of the forest floor before she sees him enter the tent. He moves softly for a man – a boy, she reminds herself – of his size, but he's clumsy and not nearly as coordinated as the others within her Royal Guard. She keeps him near, however, because even though he's seen her at her absolute worst, he's remained loyal to her.

Even now when the battle is almost over, and defeat seems quite certain.

"Vincent," she greets. With an impatient flick of her wrist, she waves the others knights out of the tent. Most of them leave quickly, looking relieved to be away from her, but a couple of them move slower, casting distrustful eyes at the young man who has risen so quickly in the eyes of the sovereign.

"My Queen," Vincent responds, his right arm sweeping across his chest and his balled fist thudding atop his heart as he salutes her. He bows his head forward and waits for her to tell him to rise. After a moment, she does so.

"How bad is it out there?" she asks. She's dressed in tight leather and thick protective armor, and though she looks terrifying in more than a few ways, she knows that it's all an illusion. This war with Snow and her supporters has been going on for two months now, but it's finally drawing to its close.

Because she's lost.

She knows it.

Everyone knows it.

She refuses to surrender.

Not to Snow.

Never to Snow.

"Vincent," she says softly when she sees the hesitancy in his blue eyes. He's scared, she imagines, because his news is likely terrible, and he has been around her enough to know that she doesn't handle bad news very well.

He probably fears for his life.

"We have suffered casualties and fatalities," Vincent finally admits, swallowing hard. "Our forces have been greatly reduced, my Queen."

"Do we still have options?"

"Few. None that will satisfy Her Majesty."

"Tell me."

"Fight to the death or surrender," he answers, his jaw tightening.

"Can we emerge victorious?"

He pauses again, and she can tell he's searching for a way to spin this in a way that won't seem so dire. But this situation is dire, and she knows it. "Vincent, how long have you served me?"

"Almost two years now."

"Two years," she muses, so deeply touched by the unwavering loyalty that continues to burn in his eyes.

She doesn't understand it; just like everyone else who has ever been around her for a length of time, his heart should have turned to stone by now. It hasn't, though, and what's even stranger is that he doesn't look at her like other men have. There's no lust or desire in his eyes. He doesn't have some bizarre idea of seducing her or catching her in a moment of weakness.

She really doesn't get it.

There isn't much time to think about this now, however, because there are fires burning in the distance and Snow and her idiot lover are coming closer. "Tell me the truth then," she prompts. "Can we defeat Snow White?"

"No," he admits, refusing to lose her eyes out of respect to her; he's learned after two years that she despises cowards. "We're outnumbered, and many of our remaining troops and allies are fleeing or surrendering."

"But not you?"

"I'll stay beside you as long as you'll allow me to."

She tilts her head, her keen eyes intense and curious. "Why?"

"It's my duty," he replies.

"It's their duty as well, dear, and yet they abandon me."

"You have been good to me," he tells her.

"This is going to end in death. Perhaps both of ours."

"Perhaps. Probably. But you are my Queen and my place is at your side."

She considers his words for a moment, and then says in a deep voice that betrays little of her thoughts, "How close are we to Sherwood Forest?"

"Perhaps half a day," he states. "But I don't think it'll provide us very much cover; the outlaws who live there are certainly not loyal to any crown."

"Especially not mine, no," she chuckles. "But they might be useful yet."

"I'll get your horse prepared," Vincent tells her. "Shall I alert the –"

"No, it'll be just the two of us going," she responds. "There's someone we need to speak to there. He can either assist us or he can't; there's no need to put him on edge by storming his camp with dozens of Black Knights."

"His?" Vincent queries. Then, as if remembering, "Robin Hood and his Merry Men are supposedly housed in Sherwood Forest." He tilts his head, a light frown touching his lips. "Pardon my impertinence, Your Majesty, but I don't quite understand what we intend to get out of this. The Prince of Thieves is absolutely on Snow White's side in this battle. He's our enemy, my Queen."

"He's no threat to me, Vincent."

Her young soldier looks for a moment as though he might argue with her, but then as if recalling his place and remembering that though he enjoys a position of some degree of trust with her – if such a thing can truly be had at all – he is still but a soldier to her, he nods his head in acquiescence.

To do otherwise would be to commit a form of treason.

He places his balled hand over his heart again, drops his head forward in respectful submission, and says softly, "By your command, my Queen."

She smiles at him and says, "I am going to miss you, Vincent."

He tilts his head. "Your Majesty?"

"As you noted, we have no real chance to win this war." She smiles when she says this, and he thinks that maybe he sees the madness in her eyes that many of the other men – even the reasonably loyal ones like Claude and Nathaniel – have been whispering about for some time now. It's their stated belief that the Queen who was already skating on reasonably thin ice in regards to her sanity has cracked completely and that this feud between she and Snow is the final act in an epic mental breakdown that will end in blood.

Has ended in blood.

So much blood.

He wonders if they're right, and this is all just a horrible waste of things. He wonders what his life might have been like if he had chosen a different walk than that of one beside the woman known to many as the Evil Queen.

No, no. No, it doesn't matter.

It's possible that Claude and Nathaniel and all of the whispering men are right about her. Perhaps the Queen _is_ completely insane now, and maybe all that's left for any of them to do now is die for her rage, but if that's what this is, if that's the only path left to him, well at least he'll do it with honor.

"It's not over yet," he assures her. "Snow White is on the move to the west, and there still might yet be a chance to at least corner her there."

"There still might be," she agrees with a smile that sends a shot of icy dread right through his middle. "Prepare my horse; we ride within the hour."

* * *

"Robin!" the boy screams, his voice cracking hard in the middle. He's just a shade or two over fifteen years of old, and he's already seen far too much pain and hurt in his young life, but his brown eyes are bright and hopeful.

He sees all of this as some kind of grand adventure.

Robin supposes that's better than seeing it all as a nightmare.

"Jonathan," he soothes as he strides towards the boy. "What's wrong?"

"We have visitors," he says. "We've been discovered."

"Can you tell by whom?"

"By the Evil Queen," Little John says from beside him, his eyes narrowed.

"The Evil Queen? Regina?" Robin says, his brow furrowing.

John's head snaps around, and his eyes narrow. "Regina? Since when are you on first name basis with the woman that we're trying to defeat?"

"I never said that I was, and we, my dear old friend, are not trying to defeat her. This isn't our battle and it's certainly not our war. We help those in need, but I have no desire to be between Snow White and the Queen."

"Even if Snow White is the rightful Queen?"

"I have no further use for royalty," Robin answers, his tone firm and hard.

"I know," John says simply. "But all the same, brother, perhaps we shouldn't assume that the Evil Queen is coming to us with benevolent purpose."

Robin chuckles. "Perhaps not, no." He unstrings his bow, and holds it at the ready as the sound of horses coming closer gets louder and louder.

"Thief," she commands the moment she breaks through the foliage, her handsome stallion stomping across it. Just behind her is another horse, and it's rider is the boy that Robin recognizes as the soldier who'd released him.

"Your Majesty," Robin greets, an arrow pointed directly at her chest.

"Drop it or I'll have your head," Vincent snarls at him immediately.

Regina laughs, and puts up a hand. "At ease, Vincent; he's no threat."

"All due respect, you keep saying that –"

"Then perhaps you should listen," she says, but her tone is curiously kind considering the strength of her words. She returns her attention to Robin. "He is right, however; if that arrow – and the others pointed at me – aren't dropped within the next thirty seconds, I'm going to make your disturbingly large friend over there who is trying to hide behind a tree much slimmer."

John bares his teeth; he'd met this woman years ago when they'd tried to rob her coach, and had just barely escaped with his life then. That his best friend seems intrigued – and not at all frightened – by her worries him.

He really wouldn't mind accidentally letting an arrow or two loose at her.

"What's your business here?" Robin asks. "You made it clear to me that we shouldn't ever expect to cross paths again. And yet now it seems as though you've intentionally sought me out. You'll excuse my trepidation, then."

"I excuse nothing," she snaps. "Lower your weapons or suffer the consequences of such disrespectful behavior." Her eyes blaze when she says this, and Robin wonders just how close she is to losing it completely.

"I won't allow my men to be endangered. Say your business, Regina."

"You dare address the Queen so commonly?" Vincent growls in protest.

"We really shouldn't expect him to do otherwise, dear; he is a common thief, after all," Regina soothes. "It's something of a wonder that he knows how to speak without grunting and scratching himself at the same time."

Robin's jaw quite visibly ticks, but he somehow manages to hold his tongue.

"Say your business," he says again, his teeth grit and his arrow still pointed.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance, and then sighs loudly and dramatically. "My business with you, Thief, involves a favor that I require of you."

"A favor? I won't help you in this fight."

"I don't require your help in this…fight," she sniffs indignantly. "Nor would I desire it. I can mostly certainly handle Snow White all on my own."

"Doesn't look like it from where we're standing, lady," John notes. "Word around is that you are your Black Knights are getting their asses kicked."

"John," Robin admonishes. While he's used to the fact that his old friend has never been one to hold his tongue, there's something in the Queen's eyes that tells him that this woman has perhaps never been closer to the edge of her sanity than she is right now. Whatever her reason is for being here right now, it won't stop her from killing anyone who gets in her way.

Or anyone who offends her.

Which John is most certainly attempting to do right now.

To Regina, he says, "Very well. We'll put down our weapons, but only on your word that no attack will come against this camp by you or your men."

"If you don't attack me, I won't attack you. On my word."

"Your word. Why should we believe anything you say?" John demands.

"Because if I meant to attack you, you'd already be dead," she snaps back.

"She has a point, John," Robin sighs. He drops his bow to his side, and then motions for the others to stand down as well. Reluctantly, they do so.

"Very good," Regina nods, and then in a single fluid motion, she dismounts her horse, her heeled boots slapping hard against the packed forest dirt.

"Shall we walk?" Robin suggests, annoyance in his tone. "Or would you perhaps like to have this conversation right here? Either is fine for me."

She glares at him, irritated by his display of defiance. She supposes that she should have expected this, though; here in Sherwood, she's in his world.

"Show me your camp," she orders.

"Who am I to decline a Queen?" he says, his voice low, but tone sarcastic.

The only reason she lets it pass is because there are fires burning high in the sky, and she thinks that this will all be over by sometime late this evening.

"Your Majesty," Vincent says as he drops down. "I should come with you."

She turns to face him, and Robin thinks she sees the slightest bit of a smile on her lips. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself, dear; your job is to keep an eye on the rest of these fools. Ensure they don't hurt themselves."

Vincent frowns, but then nods his head. "Of course."

"Robin," John starts.

Robin chuckles. "_Your_ job, John, is to keep an eye on Vincent here." He's met with several glares – one from the boy and one from an indignant John - for that reply. He shrugs his shoulders, and then turns to Regina and says lightly, "I'd offer you an arm, milady, but I'd guess you wouldn't accept."

"You would be correct," she replies. She glances around at the high trees, taking everything she sees in. It rather makes him think that she's doing some kind of audit of the camp. "But you may take the lead. For now."

"How very gracious you are," Robin states. "This way, please."

* * *

Though he suspects – and actually even knows this for a fact after their previous encounters - that it's something of a usual state for her, he realizes that she's quite troubled almost immediately. He supposes that that has as much to do with the fact that her army is losing badly to the one being led by Snow White and Prince Charming. It seems more than that, though.

Of course, she doesn't say a word for several minutes. They just walk about, circling the edge of the camp, and her eyes flicker around taking everything in like she's examining the grounds for something that should concern her.

"What are you looking for?" he finally asks. "Do you think that Snow White is hidden somewhere in this camp? Because I assure you that she is not."

"I know that," Regina replies quietly. "I have a good idea where Snow is."

"Then? What is this about?"

"I need a favor, I told you that."

"You did, but that brings to mind several questions. Such as what and why?"

She glances at him for the briefest of moments, and then returns to her inspections. "You owe me your life, Thief. Twice over."

"I do, but the matter of owing wasn't one of my questions."

"No," she agrees. Her eyes flicker to one of the tents. "You sleep there?"

"One of my lads does. The watch boy who was there when you came in."

"I see. And where do you sleep?"

"You want to see my bedroll?" he asks, his eyebrow up.

"In a moment, yes." She steps towards the tent and kneels down, peering inside of it, her eyes flickering from side to side. She reaches out with a hand and lightly touches the bedroll. "Does it get cold in here?"

"We're in the woods," he reminds her. "We're slave to the elements."

"What do you do to stay warm?"

"Fire and blankets."

"Do you lose many to the cold months?"

"No," he replies. "We've learned how to handle the weather, and to look for signs of illness." He steps towards her. "Regina, what is this about?"

She glares up at him. "You have no right to call me that."

"You're about to ask me some favor or another. I can certainly call you whatever you'd like me to or we can get down to the matter at hand, yes?"

She frowns, but then shrugs her shoulders almost petulantly. It's behavior unbefitting any queen, and it certainly isn't normal for this particular one.

"That didn't actually answer any of my questions. Again."

"Introduce me to your son," she says suddenly.

"Absolutely not," he says immediately.

Some kind of emotion flickers hot and cold over her face, and if he didn't know better, he'd think it was hurt. He wonders if she's actually upset that he would stand between a woman known as the Evil Queen and a child.

She recovers quickly enough, though, her head lifting and a sneer sliding across her lips as she quickly slams her emotionless mask into place. "Does he still live or did you break our agreement and cause him harm?"

"I have never caused my son harm," he growls at her, his face contorting into something that looks a whole lot like rage. "My boy is alive and well."

"And yet you refuse to let me see him. I wonder why that is exactly," she muses. He knows full well that she's playing with him, trying to manipulate him into a corner, but it's clumsy attempt at such and they both know it.

"How is this in any way relevant to your favor?" he demands.

Her jaw almost audibly clicks.

"Regina, enough games. What do you want?"

"I want you to take Vincent into your brotherhood," she finally sighs.

He blinks. "What?"

She looks away from him, staring at something far out in the distance. "I may come off as quite insane to you, and perhaps I even am, but in my moments when I'm not, I know how this whole game will finish. It's quite likely that I will die tonight. Even if I succeed in what I plan to do, I'll either be killed right afterwards or imprisoned and executed. This is the end for me, and even though…well, he shouldn't have to suffer my fate with me."

"I imagine he would beg to differ; he's quite loyal to you," Robin notes, glancing through the trees and spotting Vincent staring anxiously at John.

"Yes, he is," she confirms, still looking straight ahead, though clearly not at anything specifically. "I can smell the fires all the way from here.

"We all can," he state. He's about to push her to say more, but something tells him that he doesn't really need to; right now, he just needs to be patient and wait for her to decide when it's time to resume speaking.

Perhaps a minute, maybe two or three, passes and then she says, "Vincent is a good boy, and he will be an even better man if he's allowed to be. He has a kind soul and a true heart. He believes that this is all some great quest and he think that at the end of this will be something glorious." She laughs, and there's that disturbing hint of insanity again. "But we know better don't we, dear? We know that the end of this story brings just pain and death."

"It doesn't have to. You could –"

"No," she says immediately. "Snow has to pay."

"Why? Why is that more important than your life."

"That's of no matter to you, and I didn't come to speak to you about that. I came to ask you to take care of the one thing that I…that I care about."

"Thing?"

"Person," she amends with a small thin smile.

"What makes you think he'd be a good fit with my men? He's been a Black Knight for two years now. That's not usually a compatible skillset to thieves who would make it their life's mission to assist the downtrodden."

"He probably should have been one of your men from day one," she says with what looks like a hint of mocking amusement and a roll of her eyes.

"Perhaps so, but I can't imagine he'll agree to this."

"I don't plan to give him the choice," she admits, looking over at him and suddenly seeming so very sad, "If you agree, I'll render him unconscious. By the time that he comes to, this will all be over one way or another."

"So you're going to abandon him?"

"I'm going to ensure that he doesn't die for his loyalty to a hated Queen. I would hardly consider that to be abandonment," she snaps back at him.

"Point taken. You know that he'll be angry."

"Better that than imprisoned or beheaded, and before you try to tell me that Snow White and her ridiculous prince would be merciful –"

"I won't," Robin murmurs. "I understand nobility all too well, I'm afraid."

"Good. So, will you do it?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Why did you want to meet my son?"

"Vincent matters to me," she allows. "I want to know that he'll be safe."

"A child – my child - would confirm that?"

"The child you were willing to break your code of honor to protect? Yes, knowing that he lives and has a good and happy life as you promised me – knowing that you did not let him down as you assured me that you would not - matters. It makes you a man that I can trust with what matters to me."

He stares at her for a moment, and then nods, "Very well, but I warn you, should you try anything against him, I will do Snow White's job for her."

She almost snorts derisively at him, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes stops her from doing so because she believes him, and frankly, this is exactly what she wants from him. There's a chance that Snow will try to round up all of her escaped guards, and if she does, Vincent will surely need a protector.

She needs Robin Hood to be that person.

"I understand," she says simply, quietly.

* * *

Little Roland is sound asleep in his father's tent when they find him, curled beneath a thick stack of multicolored blankets, his adorably dimpled face pressed against something that serves as a pillow. His brown hair is messy and in his eyes, and Regina has a peculiar desire to push it off his forehead.

She doesn't do that, though, because she's fairly certain that should she make a single move towards Roland, the archer will likely attack her.

As well he probably should.

"He needs a haircut," she muses, smiling slightly at him.

"And I need a shave," Robin comments.

She glances over at him, her eyebrow lifting slightly. "Yes, you do." She looks back at Roland. "Is he happy here? Living in the forest? Sleeping in a tent instead of a bed?"

"It's all he knows, but I like to think that even if he knew differently, he would still appreciate the beauty that is nature. Sherwood may not offer the amenities that living in your castle does, but every night, we go to sleep under a billion stars and every morning, we wake up to the sound of birds."

"I hate birds," she mutters.

He laughs. "I've heard that about you, yes."

"So many stories," she muses. "It's good to know that at least a few of them are slightly factual. Probably devoid of detail, but factual, I suppose."

"Indeed. So, does this meet your…standard, milady?"

Her eyes sweep down towards Roland again, and he thinks that for just a moment, the insanity that's been brewing in there slips away, and then there's just this very young woman who is so desperately sad and alone.

He wants to say something, wants to assure her that she doesn't need to continue down the path that is sure to end her life, but he holds his tongue because he understands obsession far more than he would care to admit to.

He's been hunted by Nottingham because of such an obsession for entirely too many years now, and he understands that when someone's mind has been polluted by such darkness, even the most logical of arguments is likely to fall on deaf ears; plainly, though Regina clearly wants a different fate for herself then this, she doesn't seem to believe it possible, and she doesn't seem to know how to stop herself from pursuing ruinous vengeance.

Nor does she seem to even want to try to find another path to walk.

"Your Majesty?" he prompts after a long moment of silence.

"Yes," she finally answers. "This will do. So, do we have an agreement?"

"To be clear, you want me to take Vincent in?"

"And protect him. I want you to promise me that if anyone comes for him, you will protect him and keep him from harm to the best of your abilities."

"As long as Roland isn't involved, I will do as you ask me to."

"Good enough."

She glances back towards the skies, towards the fires that continue to rise.

"Now what comes next for you?" he asks.

"I ride to the west and join the rest of my remaining men."

"And then?"

"I try to kill Snow White."

"And if you succeed?"

"I will have peace I've been searching for."

"Do you really believe that? That murdering Snow can give you peace?

"I have to."

"Otherwise this is all a waste?"

She simply glares at him. It's answer enough.

"Right, then, let's get on with this. I would certainly hate to keep you from your suicidal date with destiny," he replies shortly. If he didn't think he'd die for it, he'd consider shaking this woman to try to get her to see reason.

"You lose your place once again," she comments, but without malice.

"I believe it's why I'm alive," he notes. "That's why you twice before let me live when you had every reason to kill me. Because deep down, Regina, I think you appreciate someone willing to fight for what they believe in."

"Aren't I doing that as well?"

"Is vengeance worth believing in?"

"It's all I have."

"It doesn't have to be."

She laughs, and he hears bitterness so thick in the sound of it that it's almost suffocating. "You stupid idealistic man. I thought that time had worn that away from you. I thought you knew this world by now a little better."

"I do," he insists. "But I have to believe in second chances. I have to."

"I don't. There are no more chances. There's just this."

"The end of things?"

"One way or another, everything ends, and tonight, someone will likely meet theirs." She smiles strangely at this – there's that discomforting insanity again, both bright and dull all at the same time - and he wonders if there's a part of her that desperately craves the nothingness of death.

"Regina –"

She waves her hand dismissively. "Enough. I bore of this conversation."

He searches her dark eyes for some sign – something, anything – that says that it doesn't need to go this way, but she's closing up in front of him.

Growing cold and angry.

The Evil Queen is pushing her way out, and Regina is moving backwards.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," he says gently. "Perhaps, then, we should return to the front of the camp and conclude our business with each other."

He sees her look at Roland one last time, and then she nods her head.

* * *

Vincent stands up the moment she and Robin step into view, his face a mask of anxiety and worry. Once he sees her, he grows even more tense.

"Be calm," she says to him, offering him a smile that doesn't quite meet her turbulent eyes. "Were there any problems while we were gone? Did the large one start grunting again? Or perhaps he learned a few new words?"

"I have a few new words for you," John growls.

"Do any of them contain more than one syllable?"

"John," Robin cuts in, shaking his head to keep him from replying.

"Are we ready to go?" Vincent asks, moving towards his horse.

"Almost," she says. She glances over at Robin, waits for him to nod to confirm that their deal is still in effect, and then moves towards the young soldier who has been at her side for the last two years. "Promise me that you will find the honor with yourself and live to that code and that alone."

"Your Majesty?"

"Vincent, promise me."

He nods slowly. "Of course; I promise."

"Promise me that you will try to be happy. As hard as you can."

Vincent shakes his head. "I don't understand."

"Promise me," she urges again.

"I promise," he says again.

"Good. I am going to miss you." She steps into his space and then reaches up and touches his face gently, both palms on his warm cheeks. "You have been so very special to me, Vincent and you showed me kindness in a way that few others ever have. Now it's my turn to take care of you. When this is all over, and all anyone ever speaks about is the great and terrible Evil Queen, try to have good thoughts of me from time to time. Please?"

"My Queen –"

She leans forward and kisses him lightly on the forehead. "Sleep," she whispers to him. "When you wake up, you will have this life, and it will be a better one. One that you deserve." She feels him twitch against her, his need to fight for her and to be at her side struggling against the pulse of her magic, but she's so much stronger than him, and finally, he slumps.

When she pulls back, she notices tears on his face. Hers, she presumes as she lowers Vincent to the ground, his strong body resting in her arms. It's only then that she notices the moisture on his dark eyelashes as well.

She blinks and blinks and blinks and when she's finally sure that she's pushed them all away, she turns to face Robin, and says gently, "He's in your hands now, Robin Hood. I believe you a man of honor; prove me right."

"You have my word," he assures her, his blue eyes so deep and sincere that even though she doubts everyone, she can't find a way to doubting him.

She nods, and then after moving Vincent a few short feet away from her – he's in the dirt, but she assumes he'll only be there for a few moments, and sure enough, as soon as she slides away, two of the Merry Men move to pick him up (they may not understand the deal their leader had just made with the Queen, but they do seem to grasp that this boy is to be protected) – she starts to stand up again. As she does so, Robin reaches out for her, his arm extended and his sleeve suddenly hiking up as his hand closes around hers.

That's when she sees his tattoo – the goddamned lion – and it's like her heart and her soul crack open all over again; there's no going back now, and seeing the ink mark of the man that was fated to be her soulmate doesn't really matter as much as it might have so many years ago, but it still hurts.

It hurts because once upon a time there'd been a girl with so much hope.

It hurts because that girl has been lost and no longer exists.

Once she's on her feet, she roughly and abruptly pushes him away from her, suddenly refusing to look at him or even meet his worried blue eyes.

"Regina," he says, his brow furrowing as he watches her place several feet of distance between them, almost like she's suddenly scared of him. He thinks he even sees her hands wring for just a split second.

Her eyes harden. "I'm the Evil Queen," she reminds him, her face contorting into a mask of rage, hatred and disturbingly murderous insanity. "And you are just a common thief honoring a debt. That's all we are to each other."

Understanding her words to be meant to push him away, he steps back, understanding that their time has come to an end. He thinks of saying "good luck" but it'd be insincere; he can't possibly wish fortune to someone with such ugly vengeance corrupting them.

So instead, he says, "I hope you find your peace."

Hearing the compassion – not pity, she realizes – in his accented voice, her rage drops away for just a moment and she says so very softly, "So do I."

She smiles one last time over at Vincent's slumbering form (he'll be out for at least twelve hours, perhaps sixteen or so), and then mounts her horse.

"He'll be safe," Robin assures her again.

She looks at his arm, his sleeve now covering the tattoo, then up into his blue eyes, and then says cryptically, "I have made so many bad decisions. It's good to know that I made a correct one somewhere along the way as well."

He has no idea what she means by that so he says nothing at all.

He simply watches her leave.

* * *

When she meets three of her men in the forest a few hours later, they ask her where Vincent is. She considers stating that he'd deserted, but it's an unbelievable lie so she says instead that he'd been killed on the way here.

She tells them that his death - at the hands of hunters loyal to Snow - is another that Snow will suffer for, and they nod their heads because their Queen understands the very nature of vengeance.

She sends them away a few minutes later, tells them that their lives mean little to her now, that all that does matter is defeating Snow White. She even manages to convince herself for a few moments before the Blue Fairy's magic covers her that she might actually have a chance to win this one.

She chooses not to think about a man with a tattoo, and the paths she'd never taken, and now likely will never be able to take. Not that she would, anyway; as she tells Snow a few days later, that girl who once believed in the redemptive and healing power of true love is now long gone. She's been forever lost to the darkness of a broken heart and a damaged soul.

She allows herself a moment to think about a boy she'd done right by.

It's small, but it means maybe someone will remember her with kindness.

Now all that's left to do is hope – pray – for the end. She does.

Because death might be the peace that she's been craving for so very long, she thinks as she looks down at the courtyard far below her dungeon cell, her troubled and damp eyes locked on the wooden post she'll die against.

There has to be peace for her somewhere.

But Snow…Snow denies her that.

Snow, through the infinite kindness of her soul, damns her again.

* * *

"The Queen lives," Robin says quietly as he sits down next to the boy on the log. Vincent has been quiet and withdrawn since awakening by himself in the camp a few days earlier; initially, he'd even tried to leave to go after Regina, but upon hearing that she'd been captured and that any attempt to try to stage a rescue attempt would certainly end in failure and death for everyone involved, he'd slumped backwards, anger, regret and failure and something that had looked a whole lot like heartbreak in his bright eyes.

"She does?" Vincent says, turning his head to face the archer.

"She does. She was pardoned by Snow White."

Vincent frowns at that. "She probably hates that."

"She probably does," Robin allows, thinking of desperate deathwishes.

"Where is she now? Still imprisoned?"

"No, word is that she's been exiled back to the Winter Castle."

"Then I should –"

"Return to her? No, she wouldn't want that."

"It's my place."

"And the war is over," Robin reminds him. "She lost. She wouldn't want you to live the existence that she is now. She wanted more for you, and you promised her that you would be try to be happy. You can't be happy there."

"This is wrong."

"So much is, lad, but I'll tell you this much: as long as the Queen draws breath, there remains a chance for her to find the happiness that has so far eluded her. There remains a chance for her to find the peace she seeks."

"And me?"

"You promised the Queen you'd try to be happy, and I promised her that I'd try ensure you were. We live a rough and challenging existence here, but a good one, and if you're willing, we'd be pleased to count you as one of us."

"I was a Black Knight of the Evil Queen. Turning me in would likely pay for food and board for your men for a year if not far longer than that," Vincent reminds him, frowning in a way that reminds Robin of the boy's youth.

"I owed her, and I pay my debts; no one will turn you in for anything."

"I see."

"And she cared about you. If a woman who had given up hope of everything except vengeance could find a place in her heart for someone enough to ensure their safety, it seems to me that that person must be special."

Vincent stands. "For my Queen, I will stay."

"I need you to stay for yourself," Robin tells him, standing as well. "You serve no master anymore, lad. Only yourself." Vincent opens his mouth to protest, but Robin quiets him. "It's time to find your place as well. Regina didn't set you free so that you could live under her banner from afar; she wanted you to live and find the peace and happiness that so eluded her."

The young former soldier nods his head, quietly replying, "I understand."

"Good. Get some rest; it's been a long week."

Robin starts to move away, but gets stopped by Vincent calling him back. "I served the Queen for two years, and I never saw her spare anyone much less someone twice as she did you. I didn't understand why back then."

"You do now?"

"I suppose we all see…interesting things in people."

"Indeed we do," Robin smiles. He claps Vincent on the shoulder, then turns and walks away, headed back towards his tent and his son.

* * *

The day the Dark Curse hits and lays waste to the vast majority of the Enchanted Forest, Sherwood Forest is beneath the dome that they will later come to find was put in place by the Queen of Hearts – Regina's mother.

It's on that day when Robin – with Roland curled tight in his protective arms - finds himself standing beside Little John and Vincent at the very edge of the forest as the colored smoke overwhelms the land. And as his field of vision clouds and then completely vanishes, the last thing Robin thinks just before his consciousness fades into absolute nothingness for twenty-eight long years is that the Queen seems to have finally sought her peace.

In the worst and most desperately destructive of ways, of course.

He wonders if when this is all over, will she decide that it was worth it?

Thirty years later, he finally gets the chance to ask her.

**-Fin**


End file.
